Through My Eyes
by Mama A
Summary: Originaly an english paper. Simon's thoughts during and after his death. T for violence.


Through My Eyes

I called down the mountain trying to reach the others. All I wanted to do was tell them of the so-called beastie's identity. I crawled through the underbrush to where I heard chanting and saw figures dancing in circles. The lightening flashed above; the thunder rumbled like a bowling ball rolling down a lane, the air continuously crackling with electricity. The circle opened and allowed me to enter. When I looked around me I was not sure if I saw man or true beasts. They stared at me with a mixture of hatred and fear. The masks of the hunters gave way to make-up covered boys who feared the unknown and hated me…maybe it was not me; maybe they thought that I was not me. I worried that they would not realize that it was me in time. My fears were no longer needed though, because moments later they surged forward and descended onto my crumpled body. I was dead to them before the first body moved. They were no longer the schoolboys that I had been living with on this island, they were monsters now and they did not care what happened to me.

It was peaceful once death came, I could no longer feel their teeth, nails, spears, rocks, and bodies hitting my defenseless one. I watched from above as they continued their savage mutilation of my body, never realizing the idea that there was no life left in it. They had been chanting and talking about killing the beast, cutting his throat, and spilling his blood. What they had not realized was that _they _were the beast; they had not killed the _beast_. They had not spilled the _beastie's_ blood. They never cut the _beast's_ throat. They had killed _me_, spilled _my_ blood, and destroyed _my_ throat. I was no longer a living breathing part of their group and they didn't care!

I wonder if I ever truly was one of them. The entire time that I had lived on that island the only two boys I truly talked to were Piggy and Ralph, and they too had been there to kill me. I do not know if they realized, at first, that it was me, but eventually they must have known. They must have thought that this beast is awfully small. Alas, it is too late for them to figure that I was me and not the beast. Maybe all along, they truly were the beast and not some imaginary creature that will eat them. _I _was certainly not the beast that they feared.

I watched the boys scatter the younger ones, truly scared and worried about what they had just taken part in, the older ones just starting to realize what they had just done. I watched as the parachute bloomed once more, opening its' wings to fly away again. It flowed out to sea floating in the air, never to be heard of again. I slowly watched as my body was taken out to sea. The water washing away my blood, my body, and my clothes, all traces of my meager existence on that island were swept away by the rolling sea. All traces of my _death_ were swept away and into the gently twisting ocean, never to be seen by the sight of man again. The storm continued until, finally, it ceased and the clouds parted onto a beautiful, deep indigo, night sky the stars twinkling like Piggy's glasses in the sun.

I am not aware of the person who said the quote, but I now believe that this person was the wisest of all men and women alike. The individual, I'm not sure exactly who, stated, "Death takes the good, too good to stay, and leaves the bad, too bad to take away." They had killed me without thought, without feeling and now all I could do is watch. My life meant nothing to them. No one would remember little Simon, who was wise beyond his years. All of that held no meaning to them. Not that I resent them for being afraid when I came crawling from the bushes, muttering of things that they did not wish to hear. Yet, I still wished they had taken a second to think about what they were doing.

"Oh well. Too late now," I told myself floating above the ground where my body once lay. I started to wonder, "Where do I go from here? Is there a heaven that I'll go to or am I being sent straight to hell? Do I just float here, in this one spot, for the rest of eternity? Am I doomed to reside in the place that I died forever? Can I float from place to place and keep an eye on everyone? Can I communicate with the living? Is there other dead that I can talk to?" I pondered this as I floated above the ground. I started, in my ghostly form, realizing something: "Can I help the others? Even if they did kill me I don't wish for them to stay on the island forever. There is no need for them to end up killing someone else. Why am I just standing here…well…floating? Why shouldn't I try to go somewhere else? I could at least head back to camp, to see what I can do in this new form." So, off I drifted into the night towards the place I had called home for the past couple of months. Undecided about my next step and where it will take me, I moved forward into the unknown. If there was one thing I knew, as said somewhere I can't quite remember where I heard it, yet it apples to my situation very well, "Death truly is the next great adventure."


End file.
